OLIVE BRANCH AND CANNON BALLS——WHICH WILL WIN?
A few days after this battle Captain Jack sent a message to John Fairchild
and Press Dorris, proposing a “talk,” telling them that they should not be
molested, and agreeing to meet them at the foot of the bluff, near the
Modoc camp. Messrs. Fairchild and Dorris, accompanied by one other white
man and an Indian woman (Dixie), visited the Lava Beds.
The meeting, as described by Fairchild, was one of peculiar interest.
Those who _had been_ friends, and _then enemies_ and at war, without any
formal declaration of peace, coming together in the stronghold of the
victorious party, presents a phase of Western life seldom witnessed. The
white men, fully armed, ride to the Indian camp with the squaw guide. The
Modocs had observed them with a field-glass while they were descending the
bluff, two miles away.
On their arrival, the men who had so earnestly sought each others’ lives
stood face to face. A painful silence followed, each party waiting for the
other to speak first. The Modocs approach and offer to shake hands. “No,
you don’t, until we understand each other,” said Fairchild; and continued,
“We came here because we learned that you wanted to talk peace. We are not
afraid to talk or to hear you talk. We were in the battle. We _fought you,
and we will fight_ again unless peace is made.”
Captain Jack replied, that “the Modocs knew all about who was in the big
battle, but that should not make trouble now. We are glad you come. We
want you to hear our side of the story. We do not want any war. Let us go
back to our homes on Lost river. We are willing to pay you for the cattle
we have killed. We don’t want to fight any more.”
Such was the substance of Captain Jack’s speech; to which Fairchild and
Dorris replied, that they were not authorized to make any terms, but would
do all they could to prevent further war.
These men visited the Modoc camp from humane and kindly motives; yet
tongues of irresponsible parties dared to speak slanderous words against
these men who ventured where their vilifiers would not have gone for any
consideration. Their motives were questioned, and insinuations unworthy
the men who made them, never would have been made had the characters of
Fairchild and Dorris been better understood.
The results of the battle of Jan. 17th had startled the public mind, and
especially the authorities at Washington City. On investigating the cause
of the war, it was thought that some mistake had been made. The citizens
of Oregon who were then in Washington, headed by Gen. E. L. Applegate,
consulted with Attorney-General Williams on the subject of the Modoc
troubles. Inasmuch as a vast amount of ink has since been wasted in
expressing indignation against the Modoc Peace Commission, I herewith
submit the subjoined letter from Gen. Applegate, of Oregon, to the “Oregon
Bulletin,” which gives a fair, and, I believe, true statement of the
circumstances attending its conception. I was not present at the
conference referred to, neither was I consulted as to the propriety of the
movement, either by the Honorable Secretary or the Oregon delegation.
Secretary Delano is qualified to defend his own action, and I only suggest
that, with the representations set forth, he acted wisely in the course he
pursued.
Although I did not advise the appointment of a Peace Commission, I declare
that it was right, and no blame can be justly attached to either the
Commission or the appointing power, if it was not a success.
The principle of adjusting difficulties by such means is in harmony with
justice and right. Let those who _burned_ the Honorable Secretary in
effigy remember the continued stream of denunciation that was poured out
against the Commission by a portion of the secular press of the Pacific
coast, and the reason why the peace measures failed may be better
understood.
LETTER FROM WASHINGTON CITY.
_How the “Peace Commission,” was formed——An Account from General
Applegate——His Agency in the Matter._
WASHINGTON, D. C., January 29th, 1873.
EDITORS BULLETIN: I “arise to explain” that, since coming to this city I
have been meddling somewhat with public affairs. You know the Indian
question is one which I think I have a right to express an opinion upon. I
ought to know something of Indians and Indian affairs; and, believing that
a wrong policy in regard to the Modocs might involve the country in a
tedious and expensive Indian war, without a sufficient degree of good
being accomplished by it to justify the losses, delays, and expenses
incurred, could not avoid undertaking such action as I believed might the
most quickly hasten a settlement of the trouble.
The fame abroad of Indian wars and dangers in our State is very injurious
to the cause of immigration. A great many good people are confirmed in an
opinion, which has been very considerably entertained heretofore, namely,
that Oregon is yet an Indian country, and that the settlements are at all
times in imminent danger of the tomahawk and scalping-knife.
My policy with Indians may be denominated the “pow-wow” policy. A matter
has not only to be thoroughly explained to an Indian, but it must be
explained over and over; and the fact is, that thirty years of observation
convince me that Indians can be talked into any opinion or out of it by
the men in whom they have confidence, and who understand the proper style
of Indian talk. Consequently, I was in favor of sending some man as a
Peace Commissioner to the Modoc country to pow-wow with these Indians and
settle the difficulty. “Jaw-bone” is cheaper than ammunition; and the fact
is, that all comes round to this at last, and always has. This might just
as well be done at first, it seems to me, as to go through all the ups and
downs, and expense of blood and treasure and long-delayed peace, with the
bad effects abroad on the State, and then come to it.
I was, therefore, in favor of sending Mr. Meacham to that country
immediately as a peace officer, to turn the whole thing into a “big
talk,” instead of letting it go on and getting into a big war.
This policy was agreed upon by as many of the Oregonians as could be got
together. Styling ourselves an “Oregon delegation,” we called upon
Attorney-General Williams, and submitted the matter to him. We promptly
received a note from the attorney-general, stating that Secretary Delano
would be glad to see us in regard to this matter, and on Saturday, the
25th, we called upon him. We found him a pleasant gentleman, with a very
serious business expression about his face. He heard our statements and
opinions with great patience, and requested a statement in writing of our
views, for the purpose of bringing the matter before the cabinet and
President. The following is the said document, which was signed by the
aforesaid Oregon delegation:——
WASHINGTON, D. C., January 27th, 1873.
_Hon._ C. DELANO, _Secretary Interior_:——
DEAR SIR: We would most respectfully submit the following notes or
memoranda, in compliance with your request, on the 25th, that we should
embody in writing the views which we had just expressed on the situation
of affairs in the Klamath and Modoc country, in Southern Oregon:——
The Indians and military are incompatible. They cannot peaceably dwell in
contact. Soldiers should not be allowed to go on an Indian Reservation at
all. An agent in charge of an Indian Reservation should have the right to
determine who should be about the Reservation.
The Modocs and the Klamaths have been at war as far back as tradition
knows. The Klamaths persecute the Modocs when the Modocs are on the
Klamath Reservation, because this Reservation is in the country of the
Klamaths. This is a most irritating cause of discontent with the Modocs.
The near vicinity of the Modocs to the ancient home of their fathers adds
to their discontent. Moreover, the Modocs do not understand that they have
justly parted ownership with their old home. The Modocs are desperate.
Their disposition now is to sell their lives as dearly as possible; not to
submit to the military. Active military operations should be suspended
immediately. Soldiers should remain in guard only (the regulars) of the
settlements against a raid by those Indians until a peace officer reports
on the situation.
_Because_ to undertake to drive those Indians to the Reservation by force
would involve a considerable loss of life and property, and great expense
to the Government.
_Because_ war and bloodshed in such close proximity to Klamath and Yai-nax
would produce disaffection among all those Indians, which would
continually augment the force of the insurgents, and even endanger a
general uprising and breaking up of those Reservations; and discontented
Indians from everywhere would seek the hostile camp, and make out of a
little misunderstanding a great war.
_Because_ to force Indians on to a Reservation by arms, and keep them
there against their will, would require a standing army or a walled-up
Reservation.
_Because_ those Indians already know that the Government is able to
annihilate them. There is nothing, therefore, to be gained in merely
making them feel its power. Their extermination would not be worth its
cost. And, moreover, they look to the Government to protect them against
local mistake and wrong.
_Because_ they cannot, under the present juncture of affairs, be taught by
force the justice of the Government; for, to them, it is an attempt by
force to enforce an injustice——to force them to abandon their own home and
leave it unoccupied, while they are quartered upon the Klamaths; to use
the wood, water, grass, and fish of their ancient enemies, and endure the
humiliation of being regarded as inferior, because dependants; and
particularly so since those Indians had been quieted for some time with
the assurance that their request for a little Reservation of their own
would be favorably considered. They, therefore, considered the appeal to
the military to be premature, as a definite answer to their petition had
never been had. Different tribes of Indians can be better harmonized
together where none can claim original proprietorship to the soil.
The Klamaths, Yai-nax, and Modocs all ought to be removed to the Coast
Reservation, a portion of which, lying between the Siletz and Tillamook,
west of the Grand Ronde, capable of sustaining a large population, remains
unoccupied, abounding in fish, game, and all the products of the soil to
which Indians are accustomed.
A peace commissioner should hasten to the scene of trouble as coming from
the “Great Father” of all the people, both whites and Indians, with full
authority to hear and adjust all the difficulties.
On account of his personal acquaintance with those Indians and their
implicit confidence in him, we would respectfully suggest and recommend
Hon. A. B. Meacham as a proper man to appoint as a peace commissioner for
the adjustment of difficulties with those tribes and the carrying out of
the policy herein indicated.——[SIGNED AS ABOVE STATED.]
* * * * *
The day following the filing of the above set of “_Becauses_” and
recommendations, I received a note inviting me to the Interior Department.
When notified of my appointment as Chairman of the Commission, I then
expressed doubts of its success, giving, as a reason, the intense feeling
of the western people against the Modocs and any peace measures; also as
to the safety of the commission in attempting to negotiate with a people
who were desperate, and had been successful in every engagement with the
Government forces.
It is well known at the department in Washington that I accepted the
appointment with reluctance, and finally yielded my wishes on the urgent
solicitation of the Hon. Secretary of the Interior. The fact that I knew
the Modocs personally, and that I had been successful, while
Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Oregon, in managing them peaceably in
1869, was given as one reason. Another was, the sympathy I had for them on
account of the treatment of them by the Klamaths; and another still,
humanity for the soldiers whose lives were imperilled by the effort to
make peace through blood, and charity for a poor, deluded people, whose
religious infatuation and hot blood had forfeited their right to life and
liberty. My heart was in sympathy, too, with the poor, bereaved wives and
mothers, made so by Modoc treachery; but I did not believe that doubling
the number of widows and orphans would make the griefs of the mourners
less, or lighter to be borne.
The sands of the sage-brush plains had drank up the blood of a score of
manly hearts; immersing the lava rocks in blood could not make the dead
forms to rise again.
With these feelings, and fully realizing the danger attending, and
anticipating the opposition that would be raised against the commission, I
left Washington on the 5th of February, 1873, with the determination to do
my whole duty, despite these untoward circumstances. The other members of
the commission were Hon. Jesse Applegate, a man of long experience on the
frontier, possessed of eminent qualities for such a mission, aside from
his personal knowledge of existing hostilities, and personal acquaintance
with the Modocs, and Samuel Case, who was then acting Indian Agent at
Alsea, Oregon. Mr. Case has had long experience and success in the
management of Indians; these qualities were requisite in treating with a
hostile people. _Both these appointments were made on my own
recommendation, based on a personal acquaintance with these gentlemen,
believing them fitted for the difficult task assigned the commission._ I
accepted the chairmanship more cheerfully, when informed that Gen. Canby
would act as counsellor to the commission, knowing, as I did, his great
experience among Indians, and the ability and character which he would
bring to bear upon the whole subject of the Modoc trouble. I knew him to
be humane and wise, and I had not the slightest doubt of his integrity.
The following letter of instructions was furnished for the guidance of the
commission.
With these, and the appointment of Messrs. Applegate and Case, I went to
the head-quarters of Gen. Canby, then at Fairchild’s Ranch, twenty-five
miles from the Modoc camp in the Lava Beds.
I arrived at Fairchild’s Ranch on the 19th of February, where I found
General Canby, Hon. Jesse Applegate, and Agent Samuel Case.
The Commission was duly organized, and immediately began operations
looking towards the objects sought to be accomplished.
Communication with the rebel camp had been suspended after the visit of
Fairchild and Dorris. To reopen and establish it was the first work. This
was not easy to do under the circumstances. There were several Modoc
Indian women encamped near head-quarters; but it was necessary to have
some messenger more reliable. Living but a few miles distant, was a man
whose wife was a Klamath, and who was on friendly terms with the Modocs.
This man, “Bob Whittle,” was sent for, with a request to bring his wife
with him. On his arrival, we found him to be a man of sound judgment, and
his wife to be a well-appearing woman; understanding the English language
tolerably well.
A consultation was had, and we decided to send this Indian woman and her
husband, Bob Whittle, and “One-eyed Dixie,” a Modoc woman, with a message
to the Modocs in the Lava Beds. The substance of this message was, that a
commission was then at Fairchild’s ready to talk over matters with them.
This expedition was very hazardous.
These messengers left head-quarters early on the morning of the 21st of
February, all of them _expressing doubt about ever returning_. Fairchild’s
Ranch (our head-quarters) is situated at the foot of a mountain
overlooking the route to the Lava Beds, for several miles. We watched the
mounted messengers until we lost sight of them in the distance, wondering
whether we should ever see them again.
Talk of _heroism_ being confined to race, color, or sex! nonsense; here
were two women and a man, venturing where few men would have _dared_ go.
They returned late on the same day, unharmed, and reported having been in
the Modoc camp; and bringing with them, in response to our message, the
reply, that the Modocs were willing to meet John Fairchild and Bob
Whittle, at the foot of the bluff, for the purpose of arranging for a
council talk with the commission.
Messrs. Fairchild and Whittle were despatched on the following morning,
accompanied by Matilda Whittle and “One-eyed Dixie.” Mr. Fairchild was
instructed to announce the object of the commission, and, also, who were
its members, and to arrange to meet the representative men of the Modocs,
on some midway ground, with such precautionary measures as he might
consider necessary.
He was also instructed to explain to them the meaning of an
armistice,——that _no act of war would be committed by us, or permitted by
them, while negotiations for peace were going on_. The meeting with
Captain Jack was had by Fairchild and party; the object stated, and the
_personnel_ of the commission made known. Captain Jack’s reply was that he
was _ready to make peace_; that he did _not wish to fight_, but he was not
willing to come out of the Lava Beds to meet us. “I understand you about
not fighting, or killing cattle, or stealing horses. Tell your people they
need not be afraid to go over the country while we are making peace. My
boys will stay in the rocks while it is being settled; _we will not fire
the first shot_. You can go and hunt your cattle; no one will shoot you.
We will not begin again first. I want to see Esquire Steele. I am willing
to meet the commissioners at the foot of the bluff, but I don’t want them
to come with soldiers to make peace. The soldiers frighten my boys.”
The messengers returned, accompanied by two Modoc warriors, who were to
carry back our answer. These Modocs were Boston Charley and Bogus Charley.
We refused to go to the foot of the bluff unless accompanied by an escort
of soldiers, but proposed to meet them on open ground, “_all armed_” or
“_all unarmed_.” It was agreed that Esquire Steele should be sent for.
Bogus and Boston returned to the Modoc camp with the results of the
interview. Steele was invited to head-quarters. Gen. Canby requested by
telegraph the appointment of Judge A. M. Roseborough as a commissioner;
the request was granted, and, on the morning of the 23d, Steele and
Roseborough arrived.
The commission now numbered four. The Modocs had refused to accept all
propositions for a meeting that had been made them, so far. Communication
was now had, almost daily, between the commissioners and Captain Jack,
Frank Riddle and his wife Tobey acting as messengers and interpreters. The
Modocs came to our camp in small numbers,——there they came in constant
communication with “squaw men” (white men who associate with Indian
women), whose sympathy was with them.
From these they learned of the almost universal thirst for vengeance,——of
the indictments by the Jackson county courts against the “Lost-river”
murderers; the feelings of the newspaper press; the protest of the
Governor of Oregon; all of which was carried into the Modoc camp by such
men as Bogus and Boston Charley. I stop here to say that these two men
were well fitted for the part they played in the tragic event of which I
am writing. Bogus Charley was a full-blooded Modoc, whose father was lost
in some Indian battle. This boy was born on a small creek, called by the
miners Bogus creek; hence his name. He was not more than twenty-one years
old at this time. He had lived with white men at various times,——knew
something of civilized life,——was naturally shrewd and cunning; the
Indians called him a “double-hearted man;” and my readers will honor them
for their intelligence by the time we reach the gibbet, where Captain Jack
answered for this man’s crimes.
His counterpart may be found in civil life in finely dressed and
smooth-talking white men,——who are the scourges of good society,——persons
who are all things to all men, and true to none. Boston Charley was still
younger,——not over nineteen at the time justice caught him by the neck and
suspended him over a coffin at Fort Klamath, November 3d, 1873. He was so
named on account of his light complexion and his cunning; and as the
Indian said, “Because he had two tongues; one Indian and one white.” His
father, a Modoc, died a natural death. He had no personal cause for his
treachery, and perhaps charity should have been extended _to him_, and his
life spared, because he was “_a natural-born traitor,_” according to Modoc
theology, and not to blame for his acts.
However, such were the two principal messengers from the Modoc camp to
ours,——plausible fellows, who could lie without the slightest scruples.
They came, and were fed and clothed; they _went_, with their hearts full
of falsehoods that had been told them by whiskey-drinking white villains.
They, too, were plausible fellows; talked with the old-fashioned
“D————n-nigger-any-how” sort of a way.
Under such circumstances it was a somewhat difficult thing to arrange a
council with the Modocs on reasonable terms. True, the Modocs did say that
they had been told by white men that if Gen. Canby and the commissioners
ever got them in their power they would _all_ be hung. But who would
believe a Modoc? This was simply an excuse; and, then, no one in all that
country would have done such a thing. That was a Modoc lie. Nobody but
Modocs ever tell lies. On the contrary, _every white man was honest_. They
all wanted _to stop the war_. Of course they did. Intimate anything else,
and you would get a hundred invitations to “target practice” in
twenty-four hours; or else you would _fall in a fit_, and never get up
again, caused by _remorse_ of conscience for injuring some unnamed
individual.
On the arrival of Judge Roseborough and Esquire Steele the commission was
convened; a canvass of the situation was had. The proposition was made for
Mr. Steele to visit the Modoc camp. He consented to go, believing that he
could accomplish the object we had in view. He was _unwisely_ instructed
to offer terms of peace. This should not have been done. No terms ever
should have been offered through a _third party_,——Messrs. Roseborough,
Case, and Applegate voting for this measure. No one questioned Mr.
Steele’s integrity or his sagacity, but many did question the propriety of
sending propositions of peace to the Modocs through a third party. This
gave them the advantage of refusal, and of the advantage of discussion in
offering alternatives. Mr. Steele was authorized to say that an amnesty
for all offenders would be granted on the condition of removal to a new
home on some distant Reservation, to be selected by the Modocs; they,
meanwhile, to be quartered on “Angel Island,” in San Francisco harbor, as
_prisoners_ of war, and fed and clothed at Government expense. Mr. Steele
was accompanied on this mission by Fairchild and “Bill Dad” (correspondent
of the “Sacramento Record”), and also one or two other newspaper
correspondents,——Riddle and wife as interpreters.
They went prepared to remain over night, taking blankets and provisions.
The Modocs received them with evident pleasure.
After the usual preliminaries were over, the peace talk began. Captain
Jack made a long speech, repeating the history of the past, throwing all
the responsibility on to the messengers sent by Superintendent Odeneal,
denying that either he or his people had ever committed crime until
attacked by the soldiers; that he was anxious for peace. Mr. Steele made
the proposition to come out of the Lava Beds and go to a new home.
Steele’s speech was apparently well received, and an arrangement was made
whereby several Modocs were to return with him to the head-quarters of the
commission. Nothing of an alarming character occurred. The party returned
in the afternoon of the second day, accompanied by “Queen Mary” (sister of
Captain Jack), “Bogus Charley,” “Hooker Jim,” “Long Jim,” “Boston
Charley,” “Shacknasty Jim,” “Duffy,” “William,” “Curly-haired Jack.”
We were on the lookout, and when the now enlarged party came in sight they
made an imposing appearance. Steele was in advance, and, raising his hat,
saluted our ears with the thrilling words, “They accept peace.” Couriers
to ride to Y-re-ka were ordered, despatches prepared for the departments,
and the various newspapers. A general feeling of relief was manifest
everywhere around camp. We felt that a great victory over blood and
carnage had been won, and that our hazardous labors were nearly over.
Letters of congratulation were being prepared to send to friends, and all
was happiness and joy, when our gray-eyed friend, who was with the party,
put a sudden check on the exuberant feelings, by saying, “I don’t think
the Modocs agreed to accept the terms offered. True, they responded to
Steele’s speech, but _not in that way_. I tell you they do not understand
that they have agreed to _surrender yet, on any terms_.”
Mr. Steele repeated his declaration, and the speeches, as reported by
“Bill Dad,” were read, from which it appeared they had greeted Steele’s
peace-talk with applause. The Modocs, who came in with Steele and his
party, were called up and questioned as to the understanding. They were
reticent, saying they came out to _hear_ what was said, and not to _talk_.
No expression could be obtained from them. Of the success of his mission,
Steele was so confident that he proposed to return the next day to Captain
Jack’s camp, and reassure himself and the commission. He accordingly
started early the next morning, accompanied by the Modocs who came out
with him, and “Bill Dad” (the scribe). Mr. Fairchild was invited, but he
declined with a peculiarly slow swinging of his head from side to side,
that said a great deal; especially when he shut his eyes closely, while so
doing. Riddle, also, objected to going, but consented to let his wife
Tobey go.
The party left behind them some minds full of anxiety, especially when
reflecting on Fairchild’s pantomime.
The Modocs, who were returning with Steele, reached the stronghold some
time before he did. On his arrival, the greeting made his “_hair stand on
end_,”——he saw fearful possibilities. It required no words to convince him
that he had been _mistaken_. He realized, in a moment, the great peril of
the hour. The slightest exhibition of fear on his part would have closed
up his career, and the scribe’s, also. Steele’s long experience with the
Indians had not fully qualified him to understand them in council; but it
_had_ taught him that _real_ courage commands respect even from infuriated
savages.
He sought to appear indifferent to the changed manner, and extended his
hand to the chief, who exchanged the greetings with great caution, though
giving Steele to understand that he was still his friend.
The council was opened, the chief remarking that they had _not yet shown
their hearts_; that his friend Steele had missed some of his words.
Steele replied that he was their friend, and that he would not, knowingly,
misrepresent them.
Schonchin accused him of being a traitor to the Modocs, and of telling
falsehoods about them; and, more by manner than by word, intimated that he
was done talking peace, showing a bad heart in his action, sufficiently to
enlighten Steele on the most important thing in the world to him, namely,
that Schonchin did not intend to give Steele another opportunity to
misrepresent the Modocs.
Steele’s courage and coolness saved him. He said to Schonchin, “I do not
want to talk to a man when his heart is bad. We will talk again
to-morrow.”
The council was dissolved, the Modocs scattering about the camp, or
gathering in little squads, and talking in low tones.
The indications were, that the time for saying prayers had come, at least
for Steele and Bill Dad.
Captain Jack and Scar-faced Charley demonstrated that manhood and fidelity
may be found even in Indian camps. They, without saying in words that
Steele and Bill Dad were in danger, told them to sleep in Jack’s camp, and
proceeded to prepare the night-bed. Our messengers trustingly lay down to
rest, if not to sleep, while Scar-faced Charley, Jack and Queen Mary,
stood guard over their friends. Several times in the night, Steele looked
from under the blankets, to see each time his self-appointed guards
standing sentinel in silence.
All night long they remained at their posts, and it was well for Steele
and Bill Dad that they did; otherwise they would have been sent off, that
very night, to the other side of the “dark river.”
The morning came and the council reassembled; the signs of murder were not
wanting. Angry words and dark hints told the feeling.
Steele, relying on the friendship of Captain Jack and Scarface Charley,
proposed that he would return to the head-quarters of the commission, and
_bring with them all the commissioners the next day_.
This strategy was successful. He was permitted to depart on his promise to
lead the commission to the Modoc slaughter-pen. On his arrival at our camp
he looked some older than when he left the morning previous.
He admitted that he had been mistaken, detailing, without attempt at
concealment, that he had escaped only by promising that the commission
should visit the Lava Beds unarmed; but with candor declared that if they
went they would be murdered; that the Modocs were desperate, and were
disposed to recall the Ben Wright affair, and dwell upon it in a way that
indicated their thirst for revenge.
The department at Washington was informed by telegraph, and also by
letter, of the progress of negotiations from time to time, and _always,
without exception, by the advice and approbation of Gen. Canby_.
On Steele’s return, as Chairman of the Peace Commission, I telegraphed
the facts above referred to, and that it was the opinion of the
commission, concurred in by Gen. Canby, that treachery was intended, and
that the mission could not succeed, and that we were awaiting orders; to
which we received the following reply:——
DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR, March 5, 1873.
A. B. MEACHAM, _Fairchild’s Ranch, via Yreka, Cal._:
I do not believe the Modocs mean treachery. The mission should
not be a failure. Think I understand now their unwillingness to
confide in you. Continue negotiations.
Will consult President, and have War Department confer with
General Canby to-morrow.
C. DELANO,
_Secretary_.
The camp wore a gloomy aspect. The soldiers who had been with Maj. Jackson
on Lost river, and with Gen. Wheaton in the Lava Beds, were anxious for
peace on any terms.
Another fight was not desirable. They were real friends to the Peace
Commission. The field-glasses were often turned toward the trail leading
to the Lava Beds.
Late one evening, a small squad of Modocs were seen coming. Hope began to
dawn again on the camp. When they arrived, “Queen Mary,” speaking for her
brother, proposed, that if Gen. Canby would send wagons and teams to meet
them half way, the Modocs would all come out and surrender.
The proposition was accepted, the commission decided _three to one_, to
turn the whole matter over to Gen. Canby; meanwhile awaiting the
confirmation of the Secretary of the Interior of the above action.
Gen. Canby, accepting the charge conferred by this unwarranted action of
our board, assumed the management of affairs; and the chairman could only
look on, giving opinions when requested by Gen. Canby, though confident
that it was not the intention of the Department of the Interior to
transfer this matter to the Department of War at that time. The telegraph
station was at Y-re-ka, sixty-miles from head-quarters; hence two to three
days were required to receive replies to telegrams.
Gen. Canby, anxious for peace,——as, indeed, he always was, from humane
motives toward his soldiers and the Indians also, because he believed in
the principle,——attempted to settle the difficulties, and, knowing it to
be the policy of the President, accepted the terms offered. Mary and the
men who came out with her returned to the Lava Beds, with the distinct
understanding that the teams would be sent _without_ a squad of soldiers
to a point designated, and that on the following Monday all the Modocs
would be there.
When Gen. Canby assumed the control of this affair, he conducted his
councils without Riddle and his wife as interpreters, although they were
present, and were in Government employ by the commission.
For some reason he became prejudiced against them, and did not recognize
them as interpreters. This fact was observed by the Modocs, and they were
anxious to know why this was so.
Before leaving, “Boston,” who was with Mary, signified to Tobey (Mrs.
Riddle), that she would not see him again, saying: “If you ever see me, I
will pay you for the saddle I borrowed.”
Tobey, feeling incensed at the treatment received, was reticent, and,
Indian-like, kept quiet, saying nothing of her suspicions.
The day before the time for surrender another messenger came from the
Modocs, saying that they could not get ready, that they were burning their
dead, but promising that two days hence they would surely come.
Gen. Canby accepted the apology, and assured the messenger that the teams
would be sent.
Meanwhile, the report went out that the war was over, much to the disquiet
of those who were anxious to secure U. S. greenbacks.
The day previous to the proposed surrender, Riddle and his wife expressed
to me their opinion, that if the teams were sent they would be _captured_,
or that no Modocs would meet them, to surrender.
I sought an interview with Gen. Canby, giving him the opinions I had
formed from Riddle’s talk.
The general called Riddle and his wife to his quarters. They repeated to
him what they had previously said to me. He consulted Gen. Gilliam, and
concluded that Mrs. Riddle either did not know, or was working into the
hands of the Modocs, or, perhaps, was influenced in some way by those who
were opposed to peace.
At all events, on the morning fixed upon, the teams were sent out, under
charge of Mr. Steele. Many an anxious eye followed them until they passed
out of sight.
The hours dragged slowly by for their return; but so sanguine were Gen.
Canby and Gen. Gilliam that tents were prepared for their accommodation,
one was designated as “Captain Jack’s Marquee,” another “Schonchin’s,” and
so on, through the row of white canvas tents.
Mr. Applegate was so certain that they would come that he left the
head-quarters for home, and reported en route: “The war is over. The
Modocs have surrendered.”
The soldiers were ready and anxious to welcome the heroes of the Lava
Beds. The sentiment was not universal that the wagons would return loaded
with Indians.
Our keen-sighted, gray-eyed man shook his head. “I don’t think they will
come. They are not going to Angel Island, as prisoners of war, just yet.”
Riddle and wife were in distress; their warning had been disregarded,
their opinions dishonored, their integrity doubted.
Every field-glass was turned on the road over which the wagons were to
come. _Four o’clock P.M._, no teams in sight. _Five_,——no Indian yet; and,
finally, as the shadow of the mountain fell over the valley, the glasses
discovered, first, Mr. Steele alone, and soon the empty wagons came slowly
down the road.
Darkness covered the valley, and also the hearts of those who really
desired peace. But a new hope was now revived in the hearts of those who,
from near and afar, were clamoring for the blood of the Modocs.
Another delegation arrived from the Modoc camp, saying, “The Modocs could
not agree; they wanted more time to think about it.”
The truth is, that they failed to agree about capturing the teams. Jack
and Scar-face were opposed to it. The authorities at Washington were
informed of this failure, also; and they replied to the commission,
“Continue negotiations.” Mr. Case resigned; Judge Roseborough returned to
his duties on the bench.
Gen. Canby notified the Modocs that no more trifling would be tolerated.
Recruits were coming daily,——one company, passing near the Lava Beds,
_captured about thirty Modoc ponies_. Gen. Canby moved his head-quarters
to Van Bremen’s, a few miles nearer the Lava Beds.
I suggested to General Canby, that the capture of horses was in violation
of the armistice, and that they should be returned. The general objected,
saying, that they should be well cared for and turned over when peace was
made.
Dr. Eleazer Thomas, of California, at the request of Senator Sargent, was
added to the commission, as was, also, Mr. Dyer, agent of the Klamath
Indians.
Dr. Thomas brought with him a long and successful experience as a minister
of the Methodist Church. He had lived on the Pacific coast for eighteen
years; but he had little experience or knowledge of Indians. Being a man
of great purity of character and untiring energy, coupled with a humane
heart and active hand, he threw himself into this new mission with
earnestness, and was impatient to begin to do something towards the
accomplishment of _peace_.
Gen. Canby was sending out exploring parties of armed mounted men
occasionally,——the ostensible object of which was to obtain a better
knowledge of the country around the Lava Beds, with a view to moving the
army nearer the Modocs. The commission was not informed of these
expeditions, or their objects, by Gen. Canby, but through other parties.
On one occasion, Dr. Thomas went out with a company, and while surveying
the Lava Beds at a distance, they met several Modocs, with whom he talked,
and succeeded in reopening communication.
A delegation of Indians visited the new camp at Van Bremens. Every effort
made through them to secure a meeting with the Board of Commissioners and
Modocs failed.
Gen. Canby notified the Modoc chief of his intention to change the
position of the army, so that the communications might be more easily
made; and, also, that he would not commence hostilities against them
unless they provoked an attack.
Captain Jack’s reply was, that he would not “fire the first shot;” but,
through his messengers, he asked a return of his horses.
Indians have great love for their horses. When a small company of the
Modoc women came in asking for their ponies, they were denied them, but
were permitted to go under guard to the corral and see them. It was a
touching scene,——those Indian women caressing their ponies. They turned
sadly away, when compelled, by orders, to leave the corral.
The fact is, several of these ponies had already been appropriated for the
use of _young_ soldiers, at home, when the war should be over.
On the last day of March, 1873, the camp at Van Bremens was broken up, and
the army was put in motion for the Lava Beds.
I was never shown any order from either department, at Washington city,
that authorized this movement, though I do not doubt Gen. Canby felt
justified in so doing.
The commission was notified——not consulted. We were under instructions “in
no wise to interfere with the army movement, but always, as far as
possible, to confer and co-operate with Gen. Canby.”
Four days were occupied in moving. We arrived at the top of the bluff
overlooking this now historic spot of rocks, about noon of the second day.
How little we knew then of the near future, when Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas
would be carried, in rough-made coffins, _up_ the zigzag road that we went
down on that day!
Our new camp was pitched near the foot of this high bluff, and immediately
on the shore of the lake. From it, with a field-glass, we could see Capt.
Jack’s people moving around their rocky home, not more than one mile and a
half, air-line, though two miles around by land.
While my memory is still green with the scenes that followed, and I have
not justified and will not justify or seek to palliate the crimes of the
Modocs, still I cannot forget some of the meditations of the half hour I
sat with Dr. Thomas, when half-way down the bluff, up which I was not to
go at all, and the doctor only as a corpse.
I have recollections yet of a part, at least, of the conversation between
us. We were representing one of the most powerful governments in the
world, and bearing peace and human kindness in our hearts, while passing
us, as we sat, were the sinews of war,——armed soldiers by the hundred.
Cannon were being dragged down the hill, tents were being erected, and all
the circumstance of military power and display was at our feet or above
us, hastening to compel an infuriated, misguided people to acknowledge the
authority of our Government.
Over yonder, within range of our glasses, were a half-hundred men,
unlettered, uncivilized, and infuriated by a superstitious religious
faith, that urged them to reject the “olive-branch” which we came to offer
them.
We could see beyond them another army of ten times their number, camping
nearer to them.
The doctor was moved by deep feeling of compassion for them, and spoke
very earnestly of their helpless condition,——benighted in mind, without
enough of the great principles of Christian justice and power to recognize
and respect the individual rights of others. Doomed as a race, hopeless
and in despair, they sat on their stony cliffs, around their caves, and
counted the men, and horses, and guns, that came down the hill to _make
peace_ with them, turning their eyes only to see the sight repeated.
Look nearer at the boys with blue dress, as they pass us, bearing camp
equipage. Many of the men are going down this hill to _stay_, unless we
can make peace with the Modocs. Our hearts grow sick at the thoughts
suggested by our surroundings.
Mutually pledging anew to stand together for peace as long as there was a
hope, we slowly followed down to the camp.
I cannot forbear mentioning an accident of the evening.
Gen. Canby’s tent was partly up when I passed near him. He said, “Well,
Mr. Meacham, where is your tent?”——“It has not come,” I replied.
The general ordered the men to pull up the pins and move his tent to the
site we had selected for ours. It was only by the most earnest entreaty on
our part that he countermanded the order, and then only on our promise to
share his tent with him, if ours was not put up in time for us to occupy
for the night.
On the day following our arrival a meeting was had with the Modocs. On our
part, Gen. Canby, Gen. Gilliam, Dr. Thomas, Mr. Dyer and myself, Frank
Riddle and Tobey as interpreters. Some of our party were armed; others
were not. Riddle and his wife Tobey were suspicious of treachery, and
said, as we went, “Be sure to mix up with the Modocs; don’t let them get
you in a bunch.”
“Boston,” who had come to our camp to arrange for the meeting, led the
way. We saw arising, apparently out of the rocks, a smoke. When we arrived
we found Captain Jack, and the principal men of his band, and about
half-a-dozen women standing by a fire built in a low, rocky basin.
Dr. Thomas was the first to descend. He did not seem to observe, indeed he
did not observe, that we were going entirely out of sight of the
field-glasses at our camp.
The place suggested treachery, especially after Riddle’s warning. I
scanned the rocks around the rim of the basin, but did not see ambushed
men; nevertheless, I had some misgiving; but it was too late to retreat
then, and to have refused to join the council would have invited an
attack. The greetings were cordial; nothing that indicated danger except
the place, and the fact that there were three times as many Indians as
“Boston” had said would be there. One reassuring circumstance was the
presence of their women. But this may have been only a blind. After
smoking the pipe of _peace_ the talk opened, each one of our party making
short speeches in favor of peace, and showing good intentions. The chief
replied in a short preliminary talk; Schonchin also. We stated our object,
and explained why the soldiers were brought so closely,——that we wanted to
feel safe.
Thus passed nearly an hour, when an incident occurred that caused some of
our party to change position very quietly.
Hooker Jim said to Mr. Riddle, “Stand aside,——get out of the way!” in
Modoc. Some of us understood what it meant. Tobey moved close to our party
and reprimanded Hooker. Captain Jack said to him, “Stop that.”
This lava bed country being at an altitude of four thousand five hundred
feet, and immediately under the lee of high mountains on the west, is
subject to heavy storms.
While we were talking, a black cloud overspread the rocks and a rain-storm
came on.
Gen. Canby remarked that “We could not talk in the rain.” Captain Jack
seemed to treat the remark with ridicule, though the interpreters omitted
to mention the fact. He said “The rain was a small matter;” that “Gen.
Canby was better clothed than he was,” but “he (Jack) would not melt like
snow.”
Gen. Canby proposed to erect a council tent on half-way ground, where
subsequent meetings could be held.
This proposition was agreed to, and just as the storm was at its height.
No agreement was made for another meeting, although it was understood that
negotiations would be continued.